The Boys
by ObsessiveCompulsiveforhp
Summary: One potion gone wrong. Two fresh chances at life. Three enemies turned friends. Four lives changed forever. AU after GoF. Deaging. Character Bashing. No pairings
1. The Explosion

Author's Note: So, I'm sorry. My brain just refuses to do the right thing and let me update the fics that I ALREADY have started, and for the most part it's been alright in letting me work on that chapter of OLIUP, but really, this fic was just unneccesary.

Hope you like it!

**Chapter One: The Explosion**

_Idiots._

Severus snarled, slicing into a mandrake root with more force than was necessary. A spurt of juice attacked his sleeve, and he snarled. Idiots. He hated them all. They would die if it weren't for him. How dare they!

The cauldron behind him hissed, and he spun to attend it, yanking up a flask of centaur urine as he passed. Of course, he was always the one being punished. Never mind that he was, again, the victim. Sure, let Black get away with murder Oh, he punched you in the face? Go off to your stinky lab at the bottom of the fudging menace's house and brew this long list of potions to calm yourself, Severus. It was nothing but a joke, no need to take it personally.

Severus fumed, pouring in the urine and spinning back to his worktable. There were seventeen other potions to be brewed that Dumbledore just happened to need tonight, for some unfathomable reason, and he couldn't afford to mess up anything with this one. It was as unpredictable as the most idiotic teenager and twice as temperamental, calling for all sorts of odd ingredients and time intervals and heat conversions and other things that made him the only person able to brew the damned potion, on a night when all he wanted to do was lose himself in the depths of his chambers and possibly plot a murder.

Or two.

But he went back to chopping rat spleens and artichoke hearts, and fought to remain calm enough that his mood wouldn't affect the potion. It was rare that potions reacted that way, but this particular brew was already unstable enough that it had turned blue when he'd sneezed behind a containment spell and he'd had a hectic three minutes trying to right the thing before the three hours he'd put into the brew had been for naught.

Though he supposed the colour change had been in reaction to the spell cast, and not the actual sneezing, but he couldn't be sure, and didn't want to take chances.

There was a slam of a door above him, and for a minute Severus glared darkly at the ingredients spread out before him. Here came Dumbledore, the angry father, come to scold the dirty snake for daring to defend himself from his precious lions and then twinkle him into submission. Except there was another slam and a voice shouting something he couldn't quite make out. But he recognized the voice. It was the wolf. Snarling, he flew across the room, barricading the door with the rough wooden post stashed next to the portal for just that purpose. He was NOT dealing with Lupin and Black right now. Lupin sounded furiously concerned, and there was a shout of 'Expelliarmus!' on the other side and Severus hissed through his teeth and cast all the containment spells he could think of at the door. Surely they were trying to kill him. There was a reason there was no wand waving, at least not of that kind, in potions making. There was a reason Master potioneers made their apprentices leave their wands outside of the lab. These idiots, duelling on the other side of the door, would kill him, or at least gravely injure him if any of their spell residue made it into the room. He didn't know just how sensitive this potion was, but at any rate it would render most of his ingredients unfit for use and then he'd have to start from scratch, if he survived.

The door shook, a pained yell coming from the other side, and Severus snapped. "You blithering idiots! Are you trying to blow this entire house into smithereens?"

"DROP DEAD, SNIVELLUS!"

"SIRIUS STOP IT!"

"USE YOUR BRAINS, YOU SNOTBRAINED IMBECILES. SPELLS AND POTIONS DO NOT MIX! The potions in this room are volatile on thier own. The slightest spell wash and it could explode!"

"THEN DIE, YOU SNOT! Bombarda!"

"SIRIUS NO!"

The spell slammed into him, and Severus had a split second to swear in the depths of his mind before his senses returned and realized that he was bleeding and in a terrible amount of pain, there was dirt and dust in the air around him, the fire was burning terribly close to his arm and the cauldron was overturned, the eery pink substance that had once been a perfectly good, if temperamental potion pooled on the floor in front of him. There were chunks of brick and wood slpinters and cloth in the mixture, and a soft, pale green smoke wafted off of it every so often. Severus shifted, sending shards of black out inducing pain down his back, and tried to find his wand. Black and Lupin were still struggling in the doorway, Black yelling at the top of his voice and occasionally firing off a curse that would fly across the room and hit something, occasionally causing little explosions as the volatile potions ingredients mixed with a spell, or another ingredient it shouldn't. Remus had Black around the shoulders, occasionally lifting the man off his feet and propelling them both a few feet backwards, but somehow Black kept coming back, dragging Remus with him. Severus couldn't understand why Remus couldn't lift the man and haul him out of there; the werewolf infection had to be good for something. And since when could Black cast wandlessly? He didn't know, nor did he care.

"Black you fool!" There was blood in his mouth, on his face, but Severus was more concerned with the fact that he couldn't hear anything. He supposed the blast had ruined his eardrums. He'd get Poppy to fix him later, after he killed Black, and before he fled from the dementors.

"SNAPE! YOU SODDING, FREAKING...SOD!" Black's arms waved wildly as he made a move to rush him but Remus pulled him back. There was spit running down the man's face and there was a deranged look in his eyes, and Severus sighed.

"He's finally gone mad then."

"He's had a few too many drinks, Severus. Sorry about your potion - "

"You snivelling bastard! What has James ever done to you, eh? Why can't you leave him alone?"

"He's not in his right mind, Severus," Remus said as Snape edged closer. "Sorry about your work. I'll keep him away from you - "

"Let me GO! Let me go Remus! Let me, just let me." The man broke down in sobs, still struggling out of Remus' hold. "LILY! JAMES! Oh god he's found them, found them. HARRY! JAMES! James, my parent's hate me, I - "

"Can't you shut him up?" Severus shifted, uncomfortable. His hearing had come back in the past few seconds and listening to Black's very real anguish as if it were still fresh had hit soemthing within him he had no intention of taking a closer look at. He didn't want to have that in common with the man. Not that. "Stun him or drag him out of here. Where's that werewolf strength?" he snarled.

"Full moon yesterday. I can barely hold him as is." Remus smiled apologetically, readjusting his grip on Sirius, who was now brokenly weeping, alternately clutching Remus' shoulders and rocking or punching him.

"Perhaps I should out him out of his misery..."

Remus' smile was sad. "Perhaps not."

And suddenly Sirius spun, launching himself from Remus' arms and locking his hands around Severus' throat. They both fell to the floor, into the puddle of gently wafting potion, adn Sirius landed a punch before Remus managed to grab a hold of him, wrenching him upward.  
"Sirius, Sirius stop it. Everything is alright, wai - WAIT!"

"I'VE DONE MY WAITING!" Sirius roared, reaching for Severus' robes and snagging a fistful. "TWELVE YEARS OF IT! IN AZKABA -"

"Stupefy!"

The man suddenly went limp, his weight dragging Remus to the ground but there was a loud bang and a searing, burning sort of pain within his bones and Severus swore, deep and hard in the back of his mind as the pain, the burning, almost euphoric pain, overwhelmed him. He'd never let Black get away with this.

Then the world went black.


	2. Bad News Bear

**Bad News Bear**

He awoke in bed. Nothing hurt, nothing so much as twinged, but he had the distinct impression that something, anything, should. It was a long moment that he took to acclimate himself to the feeling of being watched, and Severus sighed. Dumbledore. He had probably blown himself up, or something, in his anger. He'd have to begin the potion again from scratch, hopefully in his own dungeon lab and not the bleeding Order's, or what passed for a potions lab in the infernal mutt's house. Personally, he hoped the man's house was nothing but a pile of charred rubble, but knew better than to get his hopes up.

"Severus?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes behind their lids. Couldn't the man let him rest without torturing him with his twinkly presence? He truly wasn't in the mood to be scolded for not holding his temper. Why couldn't the man go hover over Black? Or Lupin?

"Severus, my boy, I know you're awake."

He sighed, forcing his eyes open. The ceiling that met his gaze was familiar, and he briefly wondered if the Black house truly _had_ been demolished, since he lay in the hospital wing. Before he could continue that train of thought, bright blue eyes set into a wrinkled smiling face obscured his vision.

"How do you feel my boy?"

"Fine." He wanted to snap, truthfully, but he'd learned a long time ago that it was better not to waste the energy. Dumbledore saw anything remotely above indifference as spirit and would only be delighted. "When can I leave?"

"Ah, but don't you want to know what brought you here, Severus?"

"Not particularly, no." He stared dully at the far wall. "If it's all the same to you I'd rather get back to that list of potions you set me. Of course the deadline has passed, but they may still be of some use if I work straight through the night."

"I'm afraid Madame Pomphrey would have my head if I did such a thing, my boy. She's very particular of her young charges receiving the proper amount of rest."

Serverus closed his eyes wearily. "She can protest all she wants. I am a grown man and a full-fledged wizard. I do what I want." Mostly, but that wasn't to be said. Severus moved to sit up, mildly noting the ease with which he did before deciding that Poppy had taken advantage of his prone state and dosed him for everything. He stared at the end of the bed, particularly his feet, watching as tiny bits of dust flitted about in the sunlight coming through a far window to his left. Morning then, early enough that birds were still singing. He almost sneered at the triteness of the scene. He needed to get out of there now, and nothing anyone said would stop him.

"Except you're not a fully grown wizard, Severus."

That was a good attempt. If nothing else, Severus figured the man hoped to upset him long enough to talk him back into the bed, but he was already yanking back the sheets covering him, putting his feet onto the floor, except those weren't his feet. Not his feet. They looked like his feet, but were far too soft, far too tanned, far too smooth to be his. He barely gave it a second thought, however. Somehow he'd been transported into someone else body. Fine. He'd just go down to the lab and brew the counter potions. One for switching the souls, another for sealing the body against leakage and further switching. He was sure he had enough castor oil, but even if he didn't, there was more than enough in his garden. He'd send an elf.

"Severus, my boy, are you listening to me at all?"

"No." He blinked, the image of his messy yet organized garden disappearing from his mind's eye. he truly hadn't been aware that the old man had been speaking, not that he truly cared what the headmaster had to say in any event. He'd probably try to get him to apologize, and Severus had no need for that sort of drivel in his head. "I've been planning the potions to brew to return me to my body. I'm not entirely certain how I've been switched or with whom, but that is hardly important for the counter potions."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him in a way Severus had come to associate with bad news. "But Severus, there hasn't been a switch. This is your body."

"It most certainly is not." Severus gained his feet, pushing away from the mattress and standing a little ways off, arms slightly outstretched so the daft old man could better see the wrongness of the situation. "This body is clearly some twenty odd years younger than my own. Nothing about this feels familiar. Ergo, not my body, or have you consumed so many lemon drops your eye have begun to rot?" There was no heat in his question. Over the years he'd learned not to bother. It simply wasn't worth it.

"But it is your body, dear boy. And you're fifteen years old - "

"Albus, you've gone mad. Sit there, I'll get Poppy - "

"A very curious side effect of the potions explosion, I agree, but true nonetheless." The man sat there giving him the most serene expression Severus had ever seen, and he began to feel uneasy. Albus was daft, yes, but he was not stupid. There was a reason he'd been trusted to run the country's most prestigious school of magic. There was a reason he'd been the only wizard the dark lord feared. If what he was saying was true...

Quickly, Severus bent at the waist, and when that didn't send him reeling he quickly yanked up the left leg of his pyjama bottoms (would that infernal woman never learn? He did not DO stripes!) There, as plain as day, was the scar he'd received the summer of his tenth year, climbing over an old rusted over fence as he tried to get away from the idiotic teenagers that though smoking and drinking and chasing younger kids on their bikes was a good pastime Severus stared at it long and hard, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening. Suddenly he was hyper-aware of everything, from the cool stone beneath his feet to the warm air circulating around the room and over his skin, to the stark, crisp smell of clean linen and disinfecting potion as it travelled through his olfactory organ and over his tongue. Slowly, to avoid the blood from rushing through his body and causing a fainting spell, Severus righted himself and retook his seat on the bed.

"How?"

"I do not know, my boy. Some of the best minds from St. Mungos have tired their hands at solving the puzzle, and have come to only two conclusions after examining the three of you. One, that - "  
"Three of us?" Surely he couldn't mean...

"Yes, three. Remus and Sirius were both affected as well. The potions was quite potent."

Severus didn't need to see the man to know he was nodding to himself, eyes closed and hands clasped over his stomach. On one hand he wanted the man to leave and never return, but on the other he had a weird sort of masochistic need to know everything. "Conclusions?"

"One, that the state is permanent. There is no reversing the deaging process save to age naturally - "

"I must stay a child?"

"I'm told is doesn't last as long as one thinks." Severus could hear the smile in Dumbledore's voice, and sneered.

"And the other?"

"Three types of magic were used to cause this reaction. That's mostly based on their own studies into similar deaging incidents. Potions, spellcasting and blood magic were all somehow involved."  
Severus remembered. He'd probably began bleeding after taking a Bombarda to the chest, even if through a door. He supposed, considering what could have happened to him with the mixture of magic that h'd gotten off relatively scot free...but he didn't feel that way.

"And there is no way to reverse this."

"None, my boy." Severus heard the old man move, and tensed even beofre the hand settled on his shoulder. "I am sorry."

Sudden;y angry, he shook the hand off, padding around the bed to stand closer to the door. "Sorry enough to punish Black? He deliberately cast that spell after I'd warned him not to. His exact words were 'Then die'! Is that not enough for you?"

"My boy, Sirius has suffered a mental collapse - "

Severus laughed, the sound cold and bitter. "Always with the excuses."

"My dear boy, I do wish you would find it within yourself to purge your heart of such hatred." Dumbledore's face could put a nun to shame. "To harbour such ill will - "

"Is that all? I'd like to return to my quarters, if that is alright with you."

The headmaster stared at him a moment longer, before shaking his head in grave sorrow. "I'm sorry, child, but you're quarters have been warded and sealed, your belongings sorted and packed away for safekeeping - "

"You have no right! how dare you intrude - "

"You are a ward of the school, Severus, more specifically myself. I had every right to secure your belongings till such a time that you are fit and able to make use of them."

Severus fumed. His morning had gone completely downhill, and he was not looking forward to it getting any better. "Where are my rooms, then? Surely you don't think I will assent to spend my days confined to a hospital bed."

Dumbledore looked truly sad. "Therein lies a problem, Severus. Just as you are, Sirius and Remus have both been reverted to teenagers, and as such have both become wards of the school - "

"No! I REFUSE to stay with them! You cannot make me, Albus, NO!" He did not care that he was making a fool of himself or acting like a spoiled child. It was one thing to grow up with the marauders. It was another to expect him to do it again.

"I thought as much, my boy. And so I have come to present to you some options. You do not need a guardian, but simply a place to stay - "

"I don't care. I don't bloody care where I stay, as long as it's as far away from those bloody menaces you adore so much!" Severus glared at his feet, pacing the edge of the bed. He did not dare to meet Albus' eyes, for fear he may cause the man to spontaneously combust.

"Severus, now be reasonable - "

"Albus, I do not care. Spend me to the Weasleys, the Tonks' send my to Harry bloody Potter's for all I care, but I will not. Stay. Here."

If Severus had been looking, he would have seen the very, very smug look cross Dumbledore's face. "As you wish, my boy."


	3. Shift

He had known when Dumbledore had practically shoved an old sock at him, that it was a portkey. He had known that it would take him to someplace he would regret ever setting eyes on, one that would try his patience and make him despise the old man more than he already did.

He did not know it would take him into a Muggle neighborhood. When the portkey deposited him roughly on the rough, gritty ground of an out of the way alley, pebbles biting into his hands and knees, Severus had been filled with annoyance. He'd just as roughly yanked himself off the ground and cautiously moved out into the area, carefully brushing himself off. He was not prepared to see a sign that read 'Privet Drive' directly in front of him, all bright and freshly painted, but shoved down the initial surge of hatred and forced himself to think about his situation.

He was alone in a muggle neighborhood. In Potter's muggle neighborhood. Dumbledore had evidently taken him at his word and sent him to the boy, but that there was no sullen Potter or Potter-relatives in the immediate area led him to believe Dumbledore hadn't sent a word ahead. Severus found himself annoyed at the unnecessary trouble it would cause, and then squashed it. This was Potter. He deserved to have his perfect little summer disrupted.

He vaguely remembered Dumbledore stating the boy's address on one occasion or another, so he headed off to number four, intent on making this as difficult for the boy wizard pain-in-his-ass as he could.

He was only mildly surprised to find Potter on his hands and knees in the front garden, the heels of his feet pale against the bright green grass. So the boy didn't spend his entire holidays lounging about, fine. Severus could accept the slight paradigm shift. He approached the boy silently, as quietly as he was able, but still saw the boy tense before cautiously peering over his shoulder.

Ah. It made sense now. Potter had been in a fight, as evidenced by his black eye, and was being punished. Severus sneered. This was easier to swallow than the brat voluntarily doing chores, but was still quite shocking that the boy could actually earn punishment. Maybe this stay wouldn't be so bad after all, if the boy could be punished.

"Uhm, who're you then?" Potter's soft voice cut through Severus' vindictive thoughts, and he sneered harder.

"Where are your relatives, Potter? I don't have all day."

Recognition flowed across Potter's face even as he turned around fully, slowly, arms held close to his torso and favoring one knee. The hard work was probably torment to the boy prince. "Prof - What are you doing here?"

"Still no respect for your elders, Potter? Be warned, I'll be here for the remainder of your summer; you don't want to irritate - "

"I didn't think it'd be wise to use your name, sir." The last was whispered through the boy's teeth, and Severus had a second to reevaluate before Potter spoke again. "And what do you mean you're here for the summer? Did the headmaster send you? Are - "

"Merlin preserve me - Potter, your guardians, where are they? Cease your inane blathering and point!"

Potter did not point, but gave him a look Severus didn't have a chance to decipher. "Can you do magic, sir?"

The question came so quietly Severus wasn't sure he'd heard it at all. He stared at the boy a moment, lost, before he realized what Potter was getting at. "Think you're going to beat up your potions professor while he's in your house, do you? Going to get your revenge? Well, let me tell you something, Potter, you come near me and I will curse you into oblivion, you hear me?"

"That's not what I meant." he struggled to his feet, the neck of his overlarge T-shirt riding down to show a purplish bruise along his collarbone. Severus grimaced; had the child no decency? "Look, I think you should clear out before they see you. My relatives, I mean. They're not very nice and I'm sure Dumbledore wanted you to be close to me or something because of -of him, but it's really not safe here and - "

"Merlin, but you're selfish. Precious Potter, can't be bothered to think about anyone but himself. Someone shows up on his doorstep and what does he do? Send them away so he doesn't have to share his relative's affection - "

"Yes, Rus, I want all their affection, all of it. Just clear out before they see you, alright."

"Oh no, that would be too easy." Severus turned on his heel and stomped toward the front door. Potter's face paled prettily in response, and Severus nearly laughed in incredulity. Was the child really that selfish? And this was what Dumbledore pinned his hopes on. Bah! With a sneer, he banged on the bright blue door, acutely satisfied when Potter seemed to droop.

A round, red mass of flesh answered the door; his dark, piggy eyes sweeping over Severus' thin form three times before he uttered a single word. "Who're you then? One of Duddy's friends?"

Severus didn't know what a 'Duddy' was, but could guess it wasn't Potter. He didn't like the looks of this man, but it couldn't be helped.

"No, sir. My name is Severus Snape. Professor Dumbledore sent me here to you to room with your nephew, Harry Potter. He assured me you'd be happy to take me in."

Severus had nearly stopped speaking, even as badly as he wanted to bite his tongue, but the look on the large man's face had begun to change almost before he'd managed to state his name. The look was downright predatory, or at least it had been, until he mentioned staying. Then, the Muggle's face had transformed into a mask better suited to a death eater. For a spell, Severus was genuinely worried.

And then the man looked at Potter. Potter, who had somehow shrank in on himself, his shoulders more hunched and generally trying to look as invisible as possible. The Muggle, whose name Severus did not know and truly hadn't been bothered to find out, seemed to swell to around twice his size (Severus wondered if there was magic involved) and then hissed in a voice so deadly it gave Severus chills. "Inside. Now."

Potter scurried, scurried, inside ahead of him and the bad feeling in the pit of Severus' stomach intensified, but by then there was nothing he could do. Vernon had grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him inside.

THEBOYS~THEBOYS

There were things that Severus had learned not to question, things he held as absolute truth on any given day and could build his world around if he so needed to. He believed, irrevocably, that he was a wizard. It was of course strange to question it, seeing as he'd grown up with a witch, seen magic for as long as he'd known himself, even done some himself in his younger days. But the realness, the trueness of the fact did not change the fact that it was a truth he kept close to himself, a stabilizing agent for when he'd ran too close to the edge and the threads of his life were frayed and falling apart.

He believed, also, in the rightness of Dumbledore. Perhaps a poor choice for his list of irrefutable truths, but there it was. Dumbledore was good. He just was. he was old, and good, and good at being old, better at being good, but Severus stopped his acknowledgement of that at just short of analyzing the man's goodness. The aging wizard did not always do good things, not nearly enough to satisfy Severus, but he did those not-so-good things for good reasons, and made sure that good outcomes came from them, so there was that. In his darkest days, filled with self-loathing and the general will to end it all, his life, his suffering, Severus was reminded that Dumbledore, calm, patient, powerful, good Dumbledore saw something in him, and while Severus may not be good, not by any stretch of the imagination, Dumbledore was, and Dumbledore saw something in him, saw he was worth something, and so he must not truly be as bad as he thought, and he would get up, shake himself, and move on.

It wasn't much, but these truths allowed him to piece together his world when he was on the brink of some breakdown or other, when some staggering fact about the dark lord was brought to light or he just needed to be reminded that the world around him worked a certain way lest he go mad. They allowed him some semblance of normal, of real, and Severus cherished them, twisted as it was. They held between them a universe of truths that encompassed his entire being, and he could not lose them.

Funny how these things were lost anyway.

Severus sat curled in a corner of a tiny bedroom, eyes wide and riveted to the opposite corner where an overweight muggle was steadily banging the back of a teenager's head into the floor, blood, sticky and dry-splattered in places spread out around him, his head, face and back still throbbing, the imprint of one meaty fist still tingling around his neck. Severus stared, and shook, and watched as the life was beaten out of harry potter.

Harry Potter who tried to get him to leave.

Harry Potter who tried to get between the Severus and the Muggle's fist.

Harry Potter who had punched the Muggle in the side of the head to draw him off.

Harry Potter who was dying.

Severus had been powerless, weak, useless, body suddenly limpid and pliable as his mind went blank and before him wasn't Vernon Dursely, man of Number Four, Privet Drive but Tobias Snape, fist raised high and then crashing into his face again and again, throwing him up the stairs and bellowing at the top of his lungs, hands in his hair, on his arms, against his stomach, and then the floor rushing up to meet him and slamming into his face, and it wasn't until he heard Potter scream did the memory-life clear, did breath find its way back into his lungs, did his eyes see and force his mind to understand just what was happening in front of him.

Harry Potter had saved his life.

Harry Potter was dying.

Something stirred in his chest, something hot and hard and jagged, crashing around his ribcage and rocketing through his arms. He was on his feet before he knew it, fists clenched at his sides and then rising higher and higher till in one blinding explosion he drew them down, down through the air against the man's head. A stunning blow crashed into his stomach, but that was fine, fine because nothing mattered, nothing mattered at all, because Harry wasn't moving, Harry wasn't breathing, Severus screamed, something cold and lifeless taking root in his chest because Harry was dead, Harry was dead, and smashed a fist into the man's face. It did no good, but he kept trying, kept kicking, punching, grabbed a hunk of flesh and sank his nails in, dragging across the skin and drawing blows and pain smashed across his head, through his eye, but he did not stop, crawled and screamed and tore at the person, the Muggle who killed Harry Potter until a solid kick to his middle, the boot cracking bone, and then the door was slammed shut, and Severus was left alone with his mind, the silence, and a dead Harry Potter.

THEBOYS~THEBOYS

Diggy.

Harry wasn't dead. Unconscious. Gravely injured. Barely breathing. But not dead. Severus could have cried, if he wasn't already.

Dongo.

The room was barely nine by six feet, barely, and yet most of it was covered in blood. Harry's blood. The floor, some of the walls, bits of the ceiling, on the window sill, it made him sick to his stomach, and Severus made himself stop thinking about it. The bed was a disgusting pile of what could have been sheets and a mattress had they not been completely crusted over with blood and other fluids Severus was sure came out of a body but did not need to be fermented the way they had been. Harry would never touch that bed again.

Dushlin? Something with a 'D'.

Shaking fingers gently raised Harry's head and slid his jumper underneath it, ignoring the blood and praying to every god he'd ever heard of that raising the teen's head wouldn't kill him.

What he needed was help. Dumbledore had as good as stranded him out in a world he did not know, and in hostile territory, so contacting him was out. He could not call on Lucius, not for this. Not without Harry's consent. The man was crafty, yes, but faced with an unattended bar of gold and he would claim it his and kill any dissenters. What he needed was an agent, someone who didn't have any ties to either side, not officially, because Severus was plotting, and as soon as Harry could walk, as soon as Harry wasn't as good as dead on the floor of this forsaken bedroom they were leaving, and hell on anyone who tried to stop them.

He didn't think about what that meant, about how his thoughts had changed so quickly, so completely, in so little time. There were enough clues to tell him that all his skills as a spy had been rusted and turned to shite in the years since Voldemort's demise because how could he not have seen, how could he not have noticed what was right in front of him for five bloody years, but that was fine.

He would pay in blood if he had to.

Harry needed to be alive first.

Dilly. He sighed, slamming his own head into the nearby wall. Lucius had hated that house elf with the fire of a thousand suns, had written entire monologues in which he detailed the many ways the elf could be killed that Severus had had to listen to; how could he have forgotten the name? Something with a 'D', two syllables, and the elf was the head of the Harry Potter fan club. Surely, if Severus could just call him...

The wood lost its cool underneath his hand, and Severus realized he was sweating, the tepid drops trailing down his back in shudder-inducing slips. This was wrong. There was nothing supposed to be wrong with him, yet he ached, from the ball of his foot to the top of his head, every inch of him throbbing in some way, and Severus couldn't have cared less. The fate of the world, all worlds, his world, was in the balance, stood precariously at the tip of his tongue...

"Dobby."

There was silence, and Severus stared madly at the opposite corner. That was it. He knew it was. every inch of him vibrated, calculating the amount of time he had left when the Mug -

"Young master called for Dob - HARRY POTTER!"

Severus caught the elf around the waist, holding on even through the wave of magic that crashed over and through him, rising up on him like a wave on the shore, crashing him into the wall behind him, the tiny elf fingernails scratching against his skin and drawing blood, Dobby's wild, hysterical screaming bouncing off the walls until Severus managed to shake the small form, his own heart pounding a tattoo against his breastbone.

"Silence yourself before he comes back!"

And then Dobby was still, a crackle of magic thrumming in the air around him, and his round little head tipped all the way back, bright green orbs piercing Severus to the bone. "He?"

"Harry's Muggle uncle. He did this." Something in the elf's eyes hardened, and Severus thought quickly. "You can kill him if you like, I won't stop you, but we need to heal Harry and get him out of here. Look at him. I managed to fight the muggle off, but he'll be back, and worse."

"Harry Potter sir cannot leave. Dumbydore's wards - "

"Must be broken!" Severus drew Dobby around to face him and gave him a little shake, ignoring the jolt of electricity shooting up his arms as he did so. "Dumbledore knew about this, Dobby, I am certain. He sent me here to suffer the same. If Harry Potter remains here, he will die. We must help him. You must help him."

Dobby eyed him coldly. "You is Snape. Why you want to help Harry Potter Sir?"

Severus met the cold gaze neatly. "Because I was wrong, Dobby. And Harry saved my life. But above that, no one deserves to be treated like this, ever."

"Harry Potter is a great wizard."

Severus nodded. "He can be so much better, Dobby, but we have to get him out of here."

"Dobby cannot break Dumblydore's magics. Dobby is just a house elf. Dobby can make muggles very miserable, though."

But no, that would not work. They had to leave, break all ties, and get far, far away from Dumbledore's influence. "Dobby, if it were you, Harry would try." He watched the green eyes widen and held the gaze. "Harry Potter would do anything to save a friend."

And then a blazing heat seemed to seep into his fingers and palms where they held Dobby but he couldn't move, Dobby's eyes seemed lit with a fire that frightened him and Severus couldn't tear his gaze away, the world spun once then twice and then with a deafening 'CRACK!' they were gone.


End file.
